Prudence Louise Baker
January 18, 1933 – May 30, 2025
92 trips around the sun, every one on her terms

Prudence Louise Baker, age 92, of Fortuna, left this world on May 30, 2025, after nearly a century of strong coffee, stronger opinions and zero patience for fools.

Let’s be real: if we wrote a boring, buttoned-up obituary, Prudie would haunt us, and probably correct our grammar while she was at it. So in her honor, we offer this tribute full of sass, sarcasm and absolutely no filter. Just the way she liked it.

Born January 18, 1933, in Oakland, Prudie’s family moved to Bridgeville when she was four, and she spent the next 88 years perfecting the side-eye. Known as the “Queen of the Glen,” she held court over Suntan Glen with sharp wit, flawless timing and an eyebrow arch that could stop a grown man in his tracks. 

She was tough. Most people knew not to mess with her, yet her sons apparently didn’t get that memo and were routinely dealt with, verbally, emotionally and occasionally with whatever household item was closest to hand.

She had the soul of an artist and the mouth of someone with no time to waste. A gifted painter, Prudie first expressed herself on canvas before turning to hairdressing, a trade that required the same creativity, confidence and ability to say, “Sweetheart, that’s just not your color,” with a smile. She ran Prudie’s Beauty Spot in the ’70s, then styled hair (and humbled egos) at Hair West well into the ’80s.

Prudie also dabbled in the fine art of matrimony. Twice, in fact, before finally getting it right with Lee Baker. But those chapters gave her four of the greatest gifts of her life, her children. Each one arrived with their own personality, their own story, and their own lifelong role as either recipient or witness of her trademark sarcasm, brutal honesty and fierce devotion. She may have moved on from their dads, but she never let go of the purpose they gave her: motherhood, in all its messy, beautiful chaos.

When she met Lee, it wasn’t just a match, it was a partnership built on laughter, loyalty and a shared love of holding court from behind the bar.

Together, Prudie and Lee owned and operated The Rendezvous Lounge in Rio Dell, a place where the drinks were strong, the stories stronger, and the regulars knew better than to argue with Prudie about the jukebox selection or bad mouthing the Raiders’. She and Lee didn’t just run a bar, they ran a community. Their reach extended beyond the lounge walls to the softball field, where they sponsored the legendary Rendezvous Softball team, aka “Da Vous.” The team proudly decked out in silver and black like her beloved Raiders. Rivals dubbed them “the Evil Empire.” Prudie called them “her boys.” She and Lee were at every game, every cookout and every post-game exaggeration session where last-minute home runs and beer-fueled brawls became part of local legend.

A die-hard Raider fan, she bled silver and black to the end. In her 80s she still showed up, or tuned in, to watch her youngest granddaughter battle through middle-school, high-school and college hoops. And let’s be honest, filters get worse with age, and Prudie’s was about 99% clogged before she ever walked into a gym or public event. She kept score in her head and commentary under her breath… nope, that’s not true, she said exactly what she wanted to say, loudly and directly. As usual.

She also went semi-viral in her golden years thanks to her Facebook antics, where her popularity grew with her sharp and witty responses to her sons. She had a talent for saying exactly what everyone else was thinking, but with better timing and fewer apologies.

She is survived by her children and the glorious chaos they created: Michele Harris of Hydesville, and daughter Alexis; Curt “Scooter” Harris of Redding and his daughters Lindsey, Rachel, and Taylor; Paige Asbury of Carlotta and her children Michael, Matthew, Mitchell, Marcus, and Melissa; Chip Stewart of Knoxville, Tenn., with wife Mary and their children Kendall and Jacob

She was preceded in death by her beloved husband Lee (likely holding a cold drink and rolling with laughter at all of this), her parents Mary and Herman Versell, and her half-sister Dorothy Gregg.

For all the laughs, Prudie was the kind of mom everyone hopes for: fiercely protective, wildly supportive, brutally honest and endlessly loving. She taught resilience, independence and how to fire off a comeback at lightning speed. She didn’t always get it right, but she always showed up. She made home feel safe, and her presence, whether in the bleachers, behind a hair dryer, or at the end of a snarky Facebook cameo, made people feel known, loved and never forgotten.

A private family service was held, low on ceremony, high on stories. In lieu of flowers, donations toward burial costs are welcome.

Prudie wasn’t perfect, but she was perfectly herself: hilarious, fierce, honest and unapologetically real. If heaven has some bleachers on the court, or comfy lounge chairs in the grass on the field, she’s already making it known who she’s pulling for, and watching.

So behave and be careful what you say.

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